Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Your actions prove differently,” I remind her. “Hold your tits up.”
She’s to the point of sobbing, but she obeys.
“Look at me,” I demand.
The second her eyes reach mine, I fucking lose it. I don’t look down, despite wanting to see every spurt of cum land on her tits.
I wish I could say I was the one to look away first, but I’m stuck in her trance until she squeezes her eyes closed and her sobbing grows exponentially.
How is it that she’s the one chained to the floor, yet she’s the one who’s in control?
“Open your fucking eyes,” I growl, and she does, obeying me once again, making me question everything I’ve done since I noticed her on the beach earlier. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I say, as she releases her breasts and lifts a hand to wipe my cum from her skin.
“If you touch it before it dries, next time, I’ll fuck your mouth and make you swallow it.”
Her sobs follow me out of the room. I should feel like the biggest asshole ever. I should feel dirty and depraved and worthless, but I don’t.
I liked it way too much to lie to myself.
Chapter 10
Raya
I groan out loud as I roll over on the couch.
This man doesn’t even have to touch me to torture me. He doesn’t have to lay a finger on me to cause my death.
There’s no way for me to deny what happened last night. He ejaculated all over my skin. The remains of it are now dry and flaking off.
Maybe I should be grateful he didn’t touch me. But that’s insane.
He shouldn’t be doing any of this. He has no right to keep me here.
I have realized very quickly that my captivity doesn’t faze him. The man doesn’t possess that part in his brain that questions if what he’s doing is right or wrong.
He leaped out of this room so quickly last night he didn’t even bother to attach my chain close enough so I could climb in bed.
My body is killing me this morning, every muscle sore. My eyelids are heavy and swollen from crying all night. The terror of being here is a drain on every system in my body.
I didn’t pull the shirt back over my head, taking heed of his warning. I didn’t want to risk the chance of wiping any of his cum that’s staining my skin.
I’m locked in a sound deprivation chamber. I can’t hear anything.
I can’t tell if he’s standing right outside of the door. I can’t even tell if he’s in the house.
It doesn’t give me hope. It doesn’t help me in any way.
I don’t move when the bedroom door opens, taking just a little bit of pride in the puffiness in his own face.
It seems he didn’t get any better sleep than I did.
I swallow as I consider what a bad night of sleep might mean for him.
Will it make him easier to anger? Will it make him more ready to hurt me, despite him not having touched me at all since those times he tried to brush hair from my face?
He remains silent as he crosses the room and removes the lock from the far end of the chain. The collar around my neck is itchy on my skin, but I don’t reach out to touch it.
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it bothers me.
He’s already taken so much from me just by me being here. He’s as silent as I am as he lifts the end of the chain and begins to walk toward the bathroom. I follow him because it’s the easier choice. If he yanks on the length of the chain, it has the ability to hurt me without him even laying a finger on me.
I don’t want pain. As much as I hate my life, I realized I want to live. I want a chance for things to be different.
Instead of making a verbal demand, he lifts his free hand and points to the shower. I don’t argue because I know it won’t do any good.
He’s not going to change his mind. He’s not going to pull this collar off my throat and tell me to leave. Any effort, any begging, would only fall on deaf ears.
I drop my eyes to the floor as I shove the sweats off my body. I glare at him, more than a little irritated with being in this situation, but he doesn’t notice my eyes.
His own gaze is locked on my breasts and his cum that’s drying there. A little light and only what I can describe as arousal fills his eyes. Like a switch has been flipped, he no longer looks tired, and I know there’s danger in that.
“Shower,” he grunts, as if I’m wasting his time.
I kick the sweats away with a little more force than I intended, but his eyes remain on me instead of following them as they fly across the room.